Chains
by horansheart
Summary: What happens when you are known as the crazy, energetic part of One Direction, but all you want to do is sleep forever. When you love him so bad it hurts, but he looks right through you. And all you can feel are the chains that bind you to the ground.


Chains

You look at yourself in the mirror, really look, and hate what you see.

Stupid, flat, limp brown hair.

Skinny face.

Skinny all over, too.

You have no features that make you stand out.

No six pack or mysterious look. No fantastic laugh or trademark curly hair.

You're just a skinny, stupid streak of nothing in suspenders.

And you despise yourself more every single day.

For the scars all over your arms.

For the fact that you have to be the crazy and the outrageous one to hide your true self.

For the gleaming razor hidden in your chest of drawers.

And especially for the fact that he'll never ever love you back.

::

"_**And then I see you on the street**_

_**in his**_ _**arms,**_

_**I get weak.**_

_**My body fails,**_

_**I'm on my knees,**_

_**praying..."**_

For you, that solo means so much more as you sing to the crowd of screaming girls.

But the stage is one place where you can really let loose.

You forget that you are the depressed, skinny one with scars along your arms and sing your heart out.

You forget that he doesn't want you.

Because, while you're on stage, you're problems don't matter. All that matters is the music, and giving the best damn performance you can.

'_We're One Direction, good night!_'

The adrenaline will last for a couple of hours after the concert, and you can just be normal with the boys.

Partying.

Drinking.

Pulling pranks.

Gettingpranked right back.

And most definitely not thinking about the way he smiled at you backstage.

But soon, the heady feeling of weightlessness disappears, and you're back to being the way you were before.

Chained to the Earth, in shackles of iron.

And you'll live half a life until the next interview, video diary or concert.

Because, in front of a camera or audience, you are Louis Tomlinson.

The funny one. The crazy one. The energetic one.

And you'll crack a joke, or recount a funny story, and you'll try to ignore his laugh, but most of the time, it's all you can hear.

::

You tried to ignore it at first.

But even in the X Factor House, you'd get a shivery feeling when he looked at you.

You were simply in ecstasy when he sat next to you in the video diaries. Right after the release of "What Makes You Beautiful", you finally accepted it.

You are in love with Niall Horan.

Hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

Even his name sends shivers down your spine.

It takes all of your willpower to keep sane when you're around him.

He'll never love you like you love him.

And it kills you every day.

::

Some days are worse than others.

You feel like there is a hole in your heart.

And your head is made of stone.

You don't feel the cold of the first winter snow, or the heat of a summers day.

You can only feel the coolness of a blade on your forearm, and the cruel, satisfying heat of the cut that comes after.

But there are some days when you don't feel so chained.

You actually feel like someone.

And you totally ignore the calling of the razor blade.

Sometimes, when he looks at you, you feel like there's someone who has a life worth living for.

But those days are getting few and far between, replaced by the shackles once again.

And you know you can't laugh this one off.

You haven't laughed in weeks.

::

But you know what the worst thing is.

They don't notice.

All too tied up with their own lives to pay much attention to your shattered reality.

Zayn, Harry, Liam and Niall.

You find it hard to grasp that Niall can't see just how much you ache for him.

You watch him every day.

Yet it takes a while to sink in.

He just doesn't know.

Either you hide it too well, or he and the rest of the boys are selfish, conceited bastards.

You prefer to go with the first option.

::

Then, one day, you wake up and you can't feel anything.

You can't think.

Or hear.

Or see.

You're already dead.

So you grope in your drawer for the razor and stumble to the bathroom.

And you know that this is it.

You bring the gleaming blade down on your wrist in one swift motion, then rinse and repeat.

You've always had a thing for symmetry.

But you can't understand why it hurts so much, why the cuts sting worse than ever before.

You can't fathom why your head is pounding, or why your chest is hurting.

You're dead. You're not supposed to feel anything.

But you _are _feeling.

As your life blood pools at your feet, and you see the floor rushing up to meet you, one thing fills your mind.

An unbearable feeling of remorse.

Because you know what you've done is so very, _very _wrong.

::

You're slowly drifting away from your body, free of the shackles, when the bathroom door is forced open.

You watch out of two sets of eyes, the dying and the dead, as a blonde figure gasps at the pool of blood.

He kneels down at your body, blood soaking his jeans, and takes your shoulders in his hands.

You shouldn't feel his warm, shaking hands.

But you do.

And you hear his voice, in that accent that you would do anything for, and you feel as if something is pulling you back.

But they're not shackles this time.

You hear him yelling out, but you can't make out the words.

You think that maybe he was too late.

Maybe you're too far gone.

But then he hugs you close, and you hear whispered words only meant for you.

_'Hang on Lou. Please don't go. Don't leave me...'_

He pulls away to look you in the eyes.

_'Stay with me, BooBear. You're not leaving me, you hear? '_

Then he does the unthinkable. He kisses your bloody forehead tenderly. His sweet lips burn more than the scars ever did.

There are footsteps, and voices and shouting.

But Niall stays with you, and you hear him yell when arms pull him away.

You feel yourself being lifted onto something soft.

You can hardly get enough air into your lungs, but they are asking you stupid questions.

_Can you hear me?_

_What's your name?_

_Do you remember what happened?_

And all you want to do is answer with 'My name is Louis Tomlinson, and I was just kissed by the sexiest person alive.'

It's the feeling of those lips that keep you hanging on.

::

But you can't help yourself.

Somewhere along the line, maybe in the ambulance, you black out.

::

You don't exactly how long you've been out, but when you wake up, it would be an understatement to say that you're overwhelmed.

You're arms are pinned by crisp white sheets, there is an IV in your arm and four worried faces hover at your bedside.

There is a lump in your throat as you take in their red eyes and blotchy cheeks.

You bury your face in the pillow, ashamed. You can't face the boys just yet, not even Niall. It's just too soon.

But you jump when someone takes a hold of your hand.

'Can we have five minutes alone, please?' says an Irish accent.

You hear people getting up to leave, and a door clicks shut.

You remain silent, extremely alert to the hand gripping your own.

'Why, Lou?'

You turn to face Niall. His piercing blue eyes are glazed with tears.

You don't have to search for the words. You have rehearsed them so many times, they come automatically.

'Because of you.'

Niall looks shocked at your bluntness, but you press on.

'But not just you. I've been clinically depressed for a long time, Niall. I thought it was getting better when I auditioned for the X Factor, but depression just doesn't go away.' you sigh quietly. You hate hurting Niall, but he has to understand. 'And then I met you. Getting put into One Direction was the best thing that has ever happened to me. But you just seemed so preoccupied. And so did the boys.'

'Louis...'

'You don't know how it feels Niall. Too love someone so much it hurts, and then find out that they don't love you back-'

'Yes, I do.' says Niall quietly.

You look at Niall quickly. As if this couldn't get any worse. Now Niall was going to proclaim his undying love for Harry or Liam or Zayn.

'Right.' you say, bracing yourself for the worst.

Suddenly, Niall leans forward, takes you by the collar of your pajamas and kisses you on the lips.

It's so right. You melt into his kiss, and have no doubt that you are made for each other.

Niall pulls away, and looks you in the eyes. A burning, more powerful and more addictive than the sear of a razor fills your body.

There are no words that need to be said. The kiss did all the talking.

Because you feel whole now. You know there is a long road to recovery, but knowing that Niall will be with you every step of the way makes the once bleak future look beautiful and bright, much like Niall himself.

The chains are gone for good.

Because there is something else that binds you to life now.

Something better.


End file.
